


Monsters of Many

by kosmeja



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19172524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmeja/pseuds/kosmeja
Summary: The women of Konoha are scary. These tales should highlight why.





	Monsters of Many

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a sort of multi-chapter fic highlighting the potiental of each kunoichi in Konoha, hope you enjoy!

 

There's nothing that could be said, nothing that could be  _ done  _ that illustrated the might of the Yamanaka clan, that did so, better than examining its leader. In Konoha, ninja were remembered by the impact of their art, by their bodies and minds and how they utilized these tools. Genjutsu wasn't as prevalent outside of the Uchiha, but if there was anyone that brought light to just how...  _ fearsome  _ it could be, it would be the leader of the Yamanaka clan during the Fourth Shinobi war. Level headed as she was, blessed with the chakra of Konoha's own demon, Ino was a boom for their communications. She was creative and arguably one of the most flexible ninja there because of her skill set, a kunoichi to rival the legends.

So of course, she had her start somewhere.

In battle, such things didn't matter, never really did. Her sensei would not be revived by something as trivial as her family name. There was no might in the world, no wisdom in any of her books, that could stop Chouji or Shikamaru (or herself, secretly) from getting hurt, both on and off the field. Her boys were doing a typical form of assault mission, backing her up as they went to provide support to some of their border ninja who were ambushed by a troop of Iwa nin. It's here, among the rocky outcroppings and crags that trickle with stream water, that she's given her magnum opus.

The formations were all the same, Chouji was their shield in living form, making use of a partial expansion jutsu to mark their entrance into the fray. Through thicket and streams, his blow landed true. A fist the size of a boulder broke through the standstill and before anyone could leap into action, the 'spear' of their trio had already acted. Shouts of confusion, and then anger as the twenty or so enemy nin till conscious realized that their immobility was the effect of some jutsu. Shikamaru had just began putting a wide form of the shadow manipulation jutsu into practice, and while more distinguished ninja might have been able to overpower their control, it seemed that the best of the Iwa nin could barely move their heads to look in her direction.

Stopped utterly and completely, Ino just had to weed the ninja of interest for anything noteworthy. But...

How could a flower ever bloom in an armory? Among the weapons of honor and destruction that her teammates had become, how could she ever grow?

From the moment she spotted the platoon, in truth, the battlefield was her own. Chakra was the only thing limiting her from bombarding them all with her wildest dreams, and even with above average pools to draw from, she could maybe control half of the crowd before exhaustion set. With that in mind, the blonde worked on the first part of her assault, a motive. She wanted to do this more than anything, to feel useful. Not for the sake of her  _ team  _ exactly, or because of some nationalistic pride, but out of a scientific like curiosity. Too much of her combat experience was pit against S-rank missing nin, psychopathic devout ninja that likely never had a sane thought in their lives. She needed a fair sample size for her tricks, and enemy patrols were perfect.

Next, was delivery. From the second Chouji expanded, blue eyes were set ahead, formulating a plan. Chakra was the main limiting factor, but it was something she could work around if she didn't use her clan techniques. she's never given a chance to stretch her wings typically, since the clan forbade experimentation when it came to their most sacred art, no matter how bullshit it was. So instead of forming the seals for her Mind Control Jutsu, the teenage monster clenched her fist, allowing the abundance of Yin chakra gathered in her throat to burst forward, a physical manifestation forming in the style of her chakra nature as a torrent came. The nature of spiritual energy always eluded her, and as far as understanding the intricacies of it all, the harmony between Yin and Yang in the world, she was still a student.

"Ino?" Shikamaru called her name and for once, didn't have that overly disappointed tone. In the heat of battle, she might have even heard confusion, his  _ worry _ . "What are you doing, exactly?" _ 'This isn't the plan, not part of the formation we've been practicing for years' _

She's a mile away in spirit. The question remains unanswered, as Ino felt her body approach its breaking point. The chakra in her throat, compressed and unformed as anything more than an idea, is ready to burst forth. What did she want from this attack? Destruction? Information? To send a message? With ninjutsu, the sky truly was the limit. But... such things felt trivial, especially in the face of enemies that would gut her without batting an eye. It's with a solemn understanding that she realizes.

She... wanted the enemy to  _ suffer _ , more than anything else. To know the gut wrenching agony that Kurenai experienced upon being informed that her lover and father to their unborn child had been slaughtered as an  _ afterthought _ . That in a desperate battle for their lives, Asuma's death was just one of many, and to the enemy, he was simply just a step above 'unmarked grave'.

She's hurting. Just as Chouji and Shikamaru had been, Ino was still grieving the loss of her mentor. If her second family could find their solace in the heat of battle, maybe she could too?

With a smile, the flower maiden spoke. "Have you ever heard of the 'sword lily'?"

Unleashing the held breath, she's surprised by the results of her will. As chakra hit the air, it's transformed into a stream of flower petals, thick and wide and slick with morning dew as an invisible force propelled the stream toward her immobilized targets. To those who remember the Suna Invasion, the flowers would give a bone chilling reminder to the genjutsu that put most lower level ninja and civilians to bed. An area of effect jutsu, concentrated into the style of a targeted genjutsu.

Shikamaru, although thoroughly surprised, could already understand the gravity of the situation. The gears in his head didn't grind for long before he figured out that Ino as improvising, stretching her status as a Jonin to test out something new. And even if he were a little...  _ terrified  _ of something new and unpracticed in the heat of battle, he understood now that he had to respect her enough to try. To act as a support, in case anything went wrong.

Whatever jutsu was working, was completely different from the Yamanaka style techniques. Instead of the invisible force of Yin chakra or palms of blue, the technique created an illusion of its own. The painstakingly directed flood of flower petals spewed from Ino's mouth, seeming to have no beginning or end. the position she took up, mouth agape and fingers flexing in hand signs, was too...  _ similar  _ to the snake summoning technique Shikamaru had seen a certain Sanin preform. Willing chakra inside of the body, molding it over and  _ over  _ again to create such a uniform illusory technique, took a level of skill that the Nara boy was certain only Kurenai possessed, as the resident Genjutsu prodigy. When had Ino honed her skills to this extent? And from  _ where  _ did she draw inspiration? Did she know what she was doing? What her genjutsu did?

It was very telling that upon Ino's surprise attack, the noise of the battlefield died down. The grunting, sounds of ninja struggling against Shikamaru's iron-clad grip, groans of unconscious troops and the smell of embers and water and jutsu used before they even joined the battle, was all muffled by the scent of morning dew and the eerie stillness of a meadow in summer. He and Chouji were the only ones free from the effect of her genjutsu and for a moment, it even seemed that Ino had fallen under some spell. She stood there as the jutsu's visible effects faulted, and the stream of petals became nonexistent, blue eyes staring off into nothingness, into the valley of ninja she rendered unconscious. He looked to Chouji, who mirrored his surprise, and  _ horror  _ as he noted that the genjutsu had hit their allies, as well as their attackers.

Thankfully, the big guy was always faster when it came to things like this. Whether it was for better or worse, he didn't hesitate when it mattered most. Before Shika could think better, the red haired teen was beside Ino, eyes glued to hers. "A stag in the wood."

"Takes the boar tusk to the garden at noon." She answered the cipher perfectly, however out of breath she might have been, and Shikamaru took the opportunity to catch up with them, still not properly convinced.

"Strength crumbles mountains." His tone wasn't exactly...  _ unsure  _ but his hands stayed in the sign for the Shadow Possession Jutsu, just in case he needed to ensnare another enemy. With something hard closing around her throat, she choked out an answer.

"Sarutobi's get engraved on them." The cipher, if she could even  _ call  _ it that, was simply an old joke that Asuma used to tell them, a play on his own fathers favorite phrase. Even if the enemy had somehow scoured that information from her mind, recreating the pain alongside it was something only they could do. When he sees the pain in her expression, an apology was on his tongue, but she shakes her head before the words can meet air.

"Even now, he guides us huh?" Shika heaved another sigh, the weight of the world expelling itself through a single motion as he smiled to her, apprehension melting away. In the place of anxiety though, was confusion. His brows knit a story, a question without words. Ino was impulsive as a friend, maybe. Passionate about her flowers and boys and the like, but she was level headed on the battlefield. She was  _ far  _ from foolhardy or lethally stupid, but hitting allies with the same genjutsu used on enemy troops was... pretty questionable, to say the least.

She'd known him so long that each little expression, even in the shaky resolution of battle, was readable. He might as well have vented his thoughts to her, for how well she pegged him. "The jutsu just puts Leaf nin to sleep. I know it looks bad, but I promise, it's working as intended." Her lessons in this art weren't for nothing, and even if the unnamed attack was nothing more than emotion and a half ass idea in her head, it was still an idea based heavily in a combination of research and experience. So what if she did the testing on the battlefield? Unlike ninjutsu, a skilled user of genjutsu could freely instill fail safes in their methods, little ways to keep the target from going into psychotic shock or something similar.

A little indignant, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Sensei wouldn't want them fighting, especially not now.

"You said 'Leaf nin'." Like the Nara heir, Chouji visibly relaxed at her words. They trusted her, even in a world that raised them to question everything and everyone around them. "What about Iwa? Are these ninja just sleeping? Can Shikamaru drop his jutsu?"

There's a pregnant pause as Ino considered obfuscating the truth just a little, as not to concern her overly sweet teammates. She could say that they'd wake up with headaches, delusions, and mild chakra exhaustion. But that was just a potential side effect, little embers that were inconsequential when compared to her roaring inferno.

The thought scared her a great deal, considering she never considered  _ lying  _ to her family before. She couldn't start now, if previous liars were any example to follow.

* * *

 

It was supposed to be a run of the mill hit and run. His unit, Iwakagure's finest assault squad, was tasked with taking out any and all border patrol ninja that happened to breach their unclaimed territory. The scare tactic was going well and it seemed that even Suna had gotten the message after the last platoon was reduced to nothing but a few terrified chunin and the grisly remains of their jounin officers. His men were tired and lightly wounded, but in the face of these Leaf nin, it was nothing that a few soldier pills couldn't remedy. The men were bold for sure, but Nawaki had the utmost confidence that his battalion could take care of a few ninja that still relied on a buddy system.

What he didn't account for unfortunately, was the mammoth sized fist that cleared through his men like they were bowling pins. Those with properly tuned reflexes managed to jump out of the way just in time and the strongest among these few were already prepping a new and nasty jutsu for this newcomer. Nawaki was among this elite, hands signing a jutsu he used a hundred times before to skewer men twice this teenagers age.

Except, he didn't get the opportunity to move from the moment his feet hit the ground. The other Jounin, those familiar with the technique of the Nara from the previous war, bark for him to dispel the jutsu before it could be used against him or anyone else. Begrudingly, he listens (but only because he couldn't  _ fucking  _ move to protest) and just like that, a dozen of Iwakagure's finest are rendered useless. Ninja didn't know fear, and especially in the face of an enemy, did they know anxiety, but while his colleagues were angrily sizing up the two ninja responsible for the assault, his eyes were glued to the kunoichi among them, who had yet to act. Striking blonde hair lighter than the sand, eyes the color of the sea, she would have made a pretty penny off the battlefield, judging from her looks alone. What was she capable of?

He thought back to one of the many drunken ramblings of his sensei. War stories of valor, strife, and chaos. A blonde haired blue eyed Konoha nin that had  _ stolen  _ their art, perfected it, and became a demon. Was that girl possibly a student, or descendant?

He didn't know, but the mere possibility that they may be in the presence of such an overwhelming force was enough to throw his senses into overdrive. The shadows that had ensnared him became that much more noticeable, slim tendrils kissing his sweat and worming their way into his pores. He hadn't known shadow possession to be so draining, so  _ invasive _ , but he could feel the fear forcing his gates into overdrive, sucking him dry. He could overpower this if he just pushed himself a little harder. Just a little more chakra in his palms, his arms, and he'd be free.

He's so close,  _ almost  _ able to twitch his arm, when a soft breath wisps over his ears, chilling him to the bone. The struggle with his chakra was forgotten, the thoughts of thunder gods and the demons who stole their art deemed inconsequential.

"Have you ever heard of the sword lily?"

He wasn't sure how he heard her whisper, but it was like she was right beside him, breath hot against his neck.

_ 'What's coming? Another ninjutsu? The killing blow? What?  _ **_What?_ ** _ ' _ His hands were burning now, screaming with the itch to dispel his fear which was clearly the product of some genjutsu. He and his platoon had to survive this. They  _ had  _ to massacre each and every one of these little demons, so that maybe Konoha would finally understand and fear their might as a nation.

So enraged, Nawaki couldn't hear the torrent of flowers, couldn't see it coming until it was too late. Strange, because even as he was pelted, he didn't  _ feel  _ anything, but exhausted. In fact, the odd breeze was refreshing in a sense. It relieved his stiffness, the ache in his hands and throat. Made it easy to forget that he was just a tool, a disposable pawn in some political game based upon revenge. He could sleep in this meadow, for just a while.

And then, instead of a battlefield, the battle worn ninja was somewhere else. somewhere warmer than the fields and more comfortable than their camp. He was no longer Nawaki Kiabe, twenty year old Jounin with a talent for destructive lightning art and taste for toxic booze and even more poisonous women. Instead, he's an eight year old on a picnic, brown locks a little neater, hand me down clothes still a bit too big for his body. Politics was a word he couldn't pronounce, and becoming a ninja was still a dream, a dream that meant being closer to his father, being like his sisters, his mother.

His mother was always so kind. When the child realized that he had dozed off under the shade provided by the cliffside, he looked up to see her knowing expression. Dirty blonde hair that she let him braid, and one of the many dresses she chose to wear while off duty, on days like today. On days like today, downtime between missions where she was allotted quality time with her family, Nawaki was given special attention. Not because he was  _ spoiled  _ or considered a favorite among the little rugrats known as the Ishikure family, but simply because only the baby could afford time to spend with his mother. The next oldest, Oyaka, was a genin who was already being ground into the dirt by her drill sergeant of a Jounin. While she  _ was  _ technically in the village, the girl was in no condition to be out on a picnic.

_ 'But are you in any condition to be lounging around, Nawaki?' _

The same soothing tones that questioned him about flowers a lifetime ago hum in his ear. The boy looked up to his mother and the confusion in his eyes was met with his mothers dazzling blue irises and an easy smile, effective in stubbing out his anxieties before she even spoke.

"Oh, are you tired already? Poor thing, we didn't even eat yet." She leaned down, hair tickling his forehead as she pressed her lips to it. "Just a little longer, Waki-kun."  _ 'Soon, you can sleep forever.' _

He imagined the words, for sure. And the scent of crisp morning dew accompanied by sweet lavender was enough to ease his doubt. There's nothing to fear, no reason to be so alert, because his mother was strong! Stronger than anyone else he knew, in fact!

Reaching into the wicker basket they had brought along, the kunoichi brushed his hair against her free hand, scratching his scalp and humming, much like one would do to a beloved pet. He couldn't see what was pulled from the basket, but judging by the smell, it had to be something sweet.

"Here." She plucked the fruit into his grubby hands and did well not to giggle as her son noisily devoured the treat. Sweets were a commodity in the village and fruit as juicy as that? Even more so.

"What  _ is  _ that mama? I've never had it!" The sugar and flavors energized him and the grogginess of his strange dream felt far off, the voices in his head nothing but mere fantasy. The birds chirped a little louder in agreement with his excitement, and little Nawaki leaned forward, chin resting on his palms as he looked to her.

The matriarch of the clan giggled, reaching her fingers toward his mouth. Like magic, she pulled a stem from it, followed by a long silver flower with slim, delicate petals.

"It's the fruit of this flower, believe it or not." She let him examine the flower, clearly amused as her son curiously sniffed at the stem and petals.

"...it doesn't  _ smell  _ sweet or fruity." It probably didn't taste too good either. While he was still fairly young, naive in many ways, he was a little too old to eat flowers. "And how did you do that magic trick anyways?" Brown eyes stared her down warily, a good ninja had to doubt everything, everyone! And he wasn't too young to start!

Meeting his gaze with a coy smirk, the kunoichi revealed a bit of her childish side with a simple reply. "Chakra. Don't you know? Some special flowers can feed on chakra and do cool things like this." Pulling another fruit from the basket for him to examine, this time Nawaki took a good look at it, sniffing it and comparing the small apple-like treat to the flower it apparently came from. So many of their outings were like this, his mother taught him interesting lessons about the world around them, and making it  _ fun  _ instead of painful. She didn't even have to ask him, because now he was focusing his chakra into his fingertips. Allowing the shadows to leech through his pores, Nawaki only took the strange sensation as a sign that something was going right.

"Yes, that's it Nawaki." She cooed, leaning in closer to watch. The encouragement only seemed to spur him into action, as the little ninjutsu prodigy was already able to focus his chakra evenly. Pulling from his reserves, he forced himself until dark spots began to cloud his vision and he was forced to relent, eager for some sort of result. Sadly... nothing. Just when he thought it was futile, a burst of flower petals streamed forth, all coming from the tip of the flower. Nawaki, thoroughly unprepared for such a result, let out a shriek as his mother cackled and silvery petals blurred his vision of her.

The laughs quickly quieted themselves, as the flower petals didn't stop coming. The muffled noise of a woman shuffling around, calling his name from all angles rung in one ear. A battle, hard fought but hopelessly lost rung out in the other ear. Above it all, distinct through his suffocation, was the screams of a blonde haired blue eyed angel. His mother, his jailer, a monster.

"Stop it, you're  _ killing  _ me, Nawaki-kun!" He's given a glimpse of a face, bloodied and mangled, his loving mother rendered to a horrible lump of shredded flesh before his eyes. Arms outstretched, the horror reached out to him, trying to offer her warmth once more before the monster could separate them for good. The sword lily, the sweetness of a fruit unfettered, and the chaos of its spring in bloom.

"Don't you know, Nawaki? The sword lily is a weapon, a flower to spread insanity."

He saw reality again, maybe for the first time in his life. Drenched in sweat, tears and blood, stripped naked and left in the choking darkness, Nawaki remembered. He was the last of the Isikure clan. His mother, sweet sweet Shigure, was  _ murdered  _ in front of them all. Oyaka had come home one day, maddened by the sword lily, and she stabbed her mother once, and then twice more when the woman wouldn't stop crying. She slit the throats of their only sister, and all three of their brothers and left him to watch, promising that he was 'touched by the same madness'. His father had awoken to the heavy scent of blood and killing intent in the air, and murdered his own flesh and blood before she could kill herself. Blew her to a million pieces that coated their living room and left the noise of chirping birds ringing in Nawaki's ears for years to come.

In this suffocating nothingness, he forgot whatever wisdom his father imparted on him. He didn't know strength, or valor, or the importance of crushing an enemy because  _ he  _ had been destroyed. Now, he relieved the slayings, his life rewritten by this curse.

The sword lily was an omen, a poison that tainted all who touched it. Letting out a warbling howl, Nawaki could only pray for death, an end to this madness.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading (and hopefully, reviewing!) I'm feeling kind of inspired right now so expect more updates in a similar vein to this sometime at the end of the month? Maybe?? And of course, this fic wouldn't have happened without my wonderful friend [ kokoronokingu ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokoronokingu/)


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